


Feels a lot like home

by Sendhelpfanfics96



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Derek's pushy, M/M, Neighbours AU, Stiles doesn't like people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sendhelpfanfics96/pseuds/Sendhelpfanfics96
Summary: Stiles has agoraphobia, and when he moves to a new town, he begins to fantasise about his neighbour. Stiles needs to regain some control over his life and Derek needs to let go a little.





	1. Open Plan

The house looked big, bigger than Stiles had anticipated. He hadn’t had the chance to see it in person, needing out of his old apartment as fast as possible. Out of the city, out of the damn region. Everything was different now and Stiles was terrified.

It had been a bit of a mad rush moving out and moving on. As soon as Liam had found out where Stiles had been living it had taken exactly three days for him to move out, put the house on the market, and find a new place further away. Stiles’ father had tried as hard as he could to get the restraining order, but since they didn’t have anything concrete the judge threw it out. Stiles and Noah were both devastated. As was Scott. And everyone he was leaving behind. Saying that… those last months in Beacon Hills he hadn’t seen many of them at all, too afraid to leave the house just incase.

The house was lovely though. Truly lovely. His dad had helped him pick one out, helped him organise the mortgage while he was driving over, and helped organise for all his stuff to be delivered later that day. Noah Stilinski truly was a wonder. Stiles got out, locked the car and walked up the path to the porch. Apparently the key was left under the largest plant pot. Lifting it up he reached underneath, the tightness in his chest already beginning to set in, his palms were sweaty, fingers trembling as he grabbed the key, almost dropping the flowerpot as sudden fear gripped him. Grasping the key in both hands, he forced it into the lock, fumbling a little as he tried to turn it.

“Come on… come on… turn you complete fucking-” he chanted softly under his breath, beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow as the key refused to turn in the lock, before suddenly - click. The lock turned and Stiles practically flew into the house, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning his back against it, eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing again. In… out… in… out… in. And back out again. It was fine… he was safe. He took another long deep breath and opened his eyes, looking around the large entry way.

It was at times like this that he was so damn glad he worked as a software developer. Good money, working from home and working on commission. Good god… working on commission, the money he got for that. He smiled a little to himself and looked over foyer. Clean hardwood floor in the foyer, white walls, leading to a stunning living room. That much was clear from the door. The living room was bare, the house was unfurnished after all. He loved the open-plan nature of the house. Knocked through walls and large, bright open spaces. It was beautiful.

Stiles grinned and walked through the arch into the kitchen, on his left, looking around. Nice big fridge-freezer. Lovely stovetop and oven. Awesome sink. He liked how big it was, stretching from the front of the house to the back of his house, plenty of room for his kitchen appliances. Years of cooking for his dad, making sure he ate healthily, had filled him with a love of food and preparing it. A small, quiet smile drifted over his lips as he walked through towards the wall-to-wall window that gave a lovely view of the back garden. There was a breakfast bar. He’d always wanted a breakfast bar! He smiled and ran a hand through the chocolatey mess of his hair and looked over the L-shaped breakfast bar, circling around it into the living room, opening up the large sliding patio door to look over the back porch and garden. The houses on his street backed onto the gardens from the next street over, it was going to take Stiles a while to get used to being out in his own garden, but he supposed a couple months of work and he might be able to afford to build himself a little nook in the garden. A nice little sheltered nook for him to read or do work or… you know, anything. The idea of having a garden was lovely and he was so glad his dad had suggested it. The apartment had a balcony but it felt too open, too much like being outside for real, and Stiles never used it. But a garden was different. He shut the door again and wandered upstairs to the bedroom, it was even better than the living room, without the furniture. He smiled as he looked over the lovely room, walk-in-wardrobe that he knew he wouldn’t really be needing, but it was still cool as shit to have. He figured he could put up some shelves. The furniture would arrive in about an hour, so that was good, but Stiles knew he would need to buy some more. An online shop on Ikea would work, and they had that new app - the AR one. The idea of using it was actually quite exciting to Stiles. His face split into a grin as he moved to sit in the middle of the room. Again, it had a wall-to-wall window, floor-to-ceiling, which was not going to be a problem, because the blinds looked fancy, mechanised by the look of them. Interesting indeed.

The wifi had already been sorted out yesterday, so Stiles had nothing at all to worry about. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened up this killer app he’d found. It was a food delivery app where you add your order and it gets delivered in 90 minutes. Perfect timing. He set about setting up his food shop - first things first of course, and placed the order, a few minutes before the doorbell rang to signify the arrival of the moving guys. Stiles rushed downstairs and let them in.

“Hey guys, sorry about the short notice… if you just move everything into the foyer, I’ll help with sorting it and once the van’s empty, you can give me a hand getting everything where it needs to be.” He said, stumbling over his words at the sudden appearance of strangers, but it was necessary and it was his stuff, so he had to appear normal… at least for now. The moving guys nodded and set about bringing in the boxes. Stiles busied himself moving them around to the appropriate rooms, beginning to unpack as the two men brought in the bed, sofas and other things which didn’t quite flat-pack themselves.

The moving guys had just finished bringing everything in and moving everything around when the food delivery arrived. Stiles was so fucking thankful, took the food and paid the dude with a massive tip before he set about making coffee for the two movers, they more than deserved it. He smiled a little as he brought the guys a coffee each. They’s just finished putting the exercise bike and treadmill in the designated gym-room upstairs. Another wall-to-wall window, in there too.

“Here you guys go… sorry about all this.” He mumbled with an apologetic smile, handing over the coffees. “It’s all been a bit of a crazy rush, and you’ve been fantastic.” He rambled softly, hands moving in his signature over-the-top manner.

“It’s fine Mr. Stilinski, honestly” One of them said, a grateful smile on his face as he took the coffee and sipped it happily. “We’re glad for the work, honestly, not many people move out of beacon hills, gave us the chance to enjoy the road a bit.”

This guy was nice, Stiles decided.

“Long trip but…” the other guy said, false smile on his face, passive-aggressive sarcasm dripping from those free words as he took a sip of the coffee.

“W-Well your tip’ll be worth it.” Stiles stammered nervously, thanking them again and heading back downstairs to the kitchen to finish unpacking the rest of the boxes for in there. About half an hour later, the kitchen was unpacked and looked fantastic - all tidy and orderly and spacious and… lived in.

“We’re off now, Mr. Stilinski.” The nice one called, and Stiles smiled, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, grabbing a handful of notes and heading over to where he was leaning, all sultry-like against the kitchen arch.

“Here… for the trouble. Thanks again.” He said with a smile, looking a bit sheepish.

“It’s honestly no trouble. Ignore Mac.” The nice one practically purred, looking Stiles up and down briefly.

“Uh… okay…” Stiles said, cheeks colouring a little at that. “well uh… have a safe trip back then!” He said, eyes a little wider than they should have been.

The nice one smirked a little at that and headed to the door, following the sound of the truck starting. Stiles waved them off at the door before shutting it when the tightness in his chest began to return.

He closed the door, leaned back against it and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before his lips parted in a happy smile. Home… Already this place was beginning to feel like home.


	2. Neighbourly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spots his sexy neighbour and discovers that he might... be a little bit of a creep.

Stiles made it a couple more days before he turned his thoughts to Ikea. There were several things which would be really useful for the house, so he took to the website, and the app, finding the perfect collection of white, grey, or aged-wood style furnishings; shelves, bookcases, coffee tables, a laundry basket, a full collection of mugs, plates and other crockery for the kitchen, and a few other things thrown in. 

Having them arrive a day later was fantastic. He loved the opportunity to get his hands on something like that. He knew he’d regret even purchasing them in an hour when he had to put them together. 

The time off from work was a blessing and a curse. He still had stuff to do, unpack and organise and set up, but his evenings mainly consisted of him sitting in the living room, curled up with a mug of hot chocolate, watching something on the History Channel. He’d found he loved myths, since the breakup with Liam he had to find something to do in his evenings that wasn’t going out with Scott or Allison or whoever was around, and sitting and learning about mythological creatures, vikings, famous roman generals and all sorts of other interesting stuff that was on there. It was so far away from what he did as a job that it was a brilliant way to relax. 

True to form, an hour and a half after the flat-packed devil spawns arrived at his door, he was nearly tearing his own hair out. He decided to take a break, leaving the destructed living room to go and get an energy drink from the fridge. Only thing he could think to do while this angry was go for a bike ride.

He changed into a pair of shorts and a vest, grabbed a towel and a bottle of water alongside the already open can of Monster, and took to the bike. It was nice being able to look over the gardens while he rode, very relaxing. He sighed as he pulled out his phone, only just remembering that he hadn’t yet installed the speaker system he wanted to have in here. 

It was a fully detached house with enough room all around so that his music wouldn’t bother the neighbours, or… anything else he got up to for that matter. He put his phone down in the holder on the bike and settled for the speakers built into the damn thing. He knew he shouldn’t really complain - he had a fucking sweet life here, but it didn’t come easy, so he’d allow himself to be a little bit impatient. 

Stiles started up at a slow pace, warming up slowly, a slight incline to get his legs properly working as he scrolled through his Spotify, trying to find something to listen to. Eventually he settled on his ultimately favourite playlist of all time, one that Scott had put together for him two years ago titled ‘Lacrosse Training Angsty Crap’. It was so funny thinking back to the day he’d first created it. Stiles was now 23, two years out of college. They were having a drink on Stiles’ 21st, which also happened to be the day that their last assignment was handed in at college. Stiles and Scott were discussing what life was gonna be like now that they’d finished.

It felt weird to be talking about that; they’d been in some form of education ever since they’d met and to suddenly now be friends outside of that, it felt kind of weird.

“How are we gonna cope?” Scott asked, the top of his bottle of beer pressed to his lower lip as he thought. “Like… all my life dude, you and me, we’ve been school friends… key word here being school.” He said without thinking.

“And here I was, thinking that the word ‘friend’ was more important.” Stiles shot back sarcastically, taking a sip of his own.

“Come on man you know what I mean - like we’ve been friends so long but the fact that we’ve been together, at school all that time, must be important right?” He asked, a small frown on his face.

“Well… I guess.” Stiles gave in, finishing off the beer and clearing his throat, smacking his lips as he laid down his third bottle, picking up his fourth and cracking it open. “But come on - we’ve been going down different paths since coming to college; if you haven’t decided I’m not worth the bother by now, when the hell are you?” He asked with a sarcastic grin.

Scott had barked out a laugh at that. “As if I could, man.” He said simply, before turning his head as some crappy pop song came on. He grimaced. “I fucking hate this song… gimme your phone lemme change it.” He said, holding out his hand for it.

He had nothing to hide from his best and oldest friend and handed it over without a problem. Scott knew his password already, opened it up and went through the Spotify, grimacing slightly before he remembered the music they used to listen to for lacrosse training. He eagerly began adding songs to a playlist, putting on a song as he came across it. Stiles quickly caught on to what he was doing and started calling out songs for him to add.

“Oooh! Oh! Last Resort!” He called, laughing softly as it immediately came on, singing along absolutely terribly with it as Scott did the same. It was brilliant and hilarious, and one of the best nights Stiles remembers with his best friend, on the cusp of a new chapter in their long tale of friendship. 

Stiles, unable to decide on what he wanted to play during the workout, opted for ‘shuffle’ and smiled as ‘Bad Company’ by Five Finger Death Punch came on. This would do, while he was still angry.

Looking out over the garden he started to notice something. Movement in the kitchen of the house opposite his, well… the house behind his. As he picked up the pace, he spotted a huge, stubbled guy standing in the kitchen, tight grey t-shirt straining over the large expanse of chest he clearly had. Stiles loved having 20/20 vision sometimes. He watched intently as the guy grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, removed the top and started drinking. He looked thirsty. Real thirsty. Wow that bottle of water was already half- nope, completely gone. Wow.

He sat back a little on the bike, slowing his pedalling and reached for his own bottle of water, taking a sip as he watched the guy move to exit his kitchen, and suddenly he was gone. Stiles couldn’t say he wasn’t a little disappointed. He didn’t get much of a chance to observe hot guys in real life.

Stiled suddenly stopped, legs jarring a little at the abruptness of the stop. “What the fuck am I doing, good god I’m such a creep.” He whispered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head to get rid of the image. 

He started pedalling again, hands firm on the handlebars as he pedalled, trying to keep his head down, looking only into his own garden. Until he spotted movement in the upper floors of the house, eyes drifting upwards just in time to see the guy pull off the tight-fitting shirt. He took a deep breath, sucking the air in through his teeth and letting out the breath, nice and slow. He looked nice. More than nice. How fucking stupid a thing to think. The guy was hot, suh-mokin’. Stiles slowed a little on the bike, head tilting to one Side slightly as he watched the guy grab a towel, rub his face and drape it over the back of his neck, before heading out of the room. Probably to shower. Ohh now wasn’t that a vision.

Stiles couldn’t help the blush that rose on his cheeks and the sly smirk that curled the corners of his mouth. “Okay so… now you’re a creep.” He said softly, no heat to his own words, just a sly, happy tone.


	3. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles being more of a creep, and Derek getting into some trouble

The next couple of months passed in much the same fashion. Stiles found the few places in his house he could watch the Neighbour guy from (He’d decided his name was James - he looked like a James, right?). From his little L-shaped breakfast bar he could sit and see perfectly into his upstairs bedroom window. Good for early mornings. Better for late night snacking instances.

Stiles knew his routine by now. He wasn’t stalking, not at all. But, you notice things when there isn’t much to look at. The house was now, well and truly sorted, and he had a good system going with food deliveries, once every 5 days, there would be a delivery. He loved cooking in this new kitchen, so much space, it was brilliant. And the freezer was his new best friend. Batch cooking was his favourite thing, and the slow cooker. His life revolved around his kitchen now; the stand mixer and the automatic coffee maker. Everything was brilliant in that house.

It was starting to get a bit warmer outside, April was turning into May and it was blissful, Stiles decided he had better get to work with the whole reading nook in his garden, so he organised for a group of builders to come and have a look at the space. He described what they wanted and they said they’d be ready to go in a week. For around a month, Stiles would be greeted in the morning by three really nice builders, every day. He was glad of the company. His friends had obviously come down for his birthday and it was a great time, but now they were all back in Beacon Hills and he was on his own. Luckily the guys were really nice. He made sure they were fed and watered, a hot lunch every day and plenty of coffees and lemonades when if got a tad hotter outside. 

By the end of may, a lovely reading nook was devised, under the shadow of the tree at the bottom of his garden, built around it with incredible skill, two benches underneath, fitted with plenty of cushions. It was sweet. Calming and quiet and covered. Stiles fell in love pretty quickly. He spent the next week out there almost every day, reading or working, but definitely out there, in the corner surrounded by cushions. 

Stiles had been out there for a week, missing out on the routine of his Neighbour, and had missed some things. When the weather suddenly changed, he grabbed the pillows and cushions and ran back inside, putting them in the storage box in the living room. 

“It would rain wouldn’t it.” He huffed, arms folded underneath him as he leaned on the breakfast bar, watching the rain pelt down outside, sliding down the glass. He sighed softly and rubbed a hand over his face. 

He moved around the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee. While he was waiting for the coffee to drip into the waiting pot below, he busied himself with dinner for the night. He’d already put a batch of meatballs in the slow cooker, ready for the meal. He smiled a little as he lifted the lid and breathed in the smell, immensely proud of himself for making the whole thing from scratch. It was going to be delicious. 

Once the coffee was made, Stiles moved upstairs to his bedroom to grab the laptop, sitting down at the desk facing his back yard. He tapped away at the keys, doing some basic research for the next big job he’d need to do for work. When the lights flicked on in James’ kitchen, he raised his eyes, sipping his coffee as he watched the guy practically saunter in, smirk on his lips. He looked happy, Stiles mused, wondering why. 

The reason became abundantly apparent a moment later. A tall slinky blonde walked in after him, wrapping her arms around him from behind, one hooked around his waist, gently pushing up his shirt, the other hooked over his shoulder as she leant up to nip his ear. Clearly, now Stiles was intruding. 

But he couldn’t look away, a silent annoying itch burning underneath his skin as he watched the new couple. He’d been hoping that his James was single… and gay… Stiles sighed a little and dragged his eyes away, looking back down at his computer, trying to focus on the work. He grabbed his coffee and lifted it to his lips, knuckles white against the matte black porcelain. He could still like dudes, a small voice chimed at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away.

“As if you were ever going to be able to actually speak to him, meet him… You can’t even go out into your front yard, never mind one street over.” He grumbled to himself, shaking his head and pulling his glasses out of his desk drawer, putting them on and glaring down at the screen, trying to ignore the fact that the couple were now essentially dry humping against the counter in the kitchen. He snapped the laptop closed and left the room, going downstairs to the living room where he couldn’t see the kitchen. He sighed in relief, hoping they’d keep the activity to the kitchen. 

He did a little bit more research before he called up Scott.

“Hey, man, it’s Stiles.” He said as Scott answered.

“Yeah dude, I know… caller ID.” His friend reminded him.

“Don’t be a dick, Scott… not today.” He huffed, pushing his glasses back into his hairline as he rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Snarky doesn’t suit you.”

“Stiles… you alright? Whats up?” Scott asked, suddenly concerned, Stiles of all people was always up for a bit of friendly banter.

“It’s stupid. It’s nothing, really.” He sighed, shaking his head and putting his feet up on the coffee table. 

“Stiles.” His friend said warningly, the raised eyebrow evident in his tone. “You’re the one who called me.”

“I know but it is!” Stiles basically whined. “I have a massive crush on my neighbour, and he’s like… currently fucking some blonde girl in the kitch-“ he cut himself off as the bedroom light came on and two stumbling figures tumbled onto the bed. “Nope… not the kitchen anymore, bedroom now.” He grumbled softly, sinking down further in his chair. 

“You spoken to the guy?” Scott asked first before he suddenly back-tracked. “Wait are you- dude are you spying on him?” His friend sounded a little disgusted with Stiles’ actions. “That’s not fucking cool man.”

Stiles let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on! I’m not! I can see directly into his house from almost anywhere in mine!” He whined, tilting his head back and closing his eyes again. “So what if I’ve noticed him!” 

“Have you spoken to him?” Scott asked again.

He sighed and pulled his glasses off his head before they fell, placing them on the coffee table. “Come on, Scott… you know me…” he spoke softly, voice tinged with sadness. “Of course I haven’t…” he sighed softly and stood, wandering around the living room as he spoke. “I can barely leave the house at all, how am I gonna go down the street and onto the one backing onto mine. I’m getting better but I’m not that much better.” He huffed.

Scott let out his own exasperated sigh. “I know you’re trying Stiles, but you’re safe!” He chastised gently. “You know this. I don’t understand why you can’t just-“

“Of course you don’t understand.” Stiles snapped back, not much heat in his voice. “Nobody does. I can’t leave my house now. I know I’m safe, logically, I know he’s back in Beacon Hills. He’s so far away from me but do you honestly think that makes that part of my brain feel any better?!” His voice cracked a little as he spoke, eyes filling up with tears. “A phobia and anxiety is not logical Scott, it doesn’t play by usual rules. Me going outside is not the same as you holding a tarantula to get over your fear of spiders. It doesn’t work like that!” He was nearly in tears at this point. “it’s a mess… I’m so alone here Scott!” He whined, tears spilling over his cheeks, creating burning trails down his pale cheeks. “I don’t have anyone.” He sobbed, sitting heavily down on a stool at the breakfast bar.

Scott apologised profusely and offered to come down, an offer which Stiles declined. He didn’t need charity, didn’t need people coming down solely because they felt guilty. 

They said goodbye and Stiles hung up, before moving into the kitchen to properly get dinner underway. He curled up in the ugly chair in his living room, and watched some Vikings.

The ugly chair was his favourite thing. He’d found it on gumtree, a throw-out of a family clearing their elderly grandmothers house. It was pure 70’s, brown and yellow stripes on the seat and back, brown leather lined the outside. It was so ugly that it was beautiful. Stiles loved it. It completely clashed with the rest of the room, and the clean-cut deep grey sofas.

Stiles was 100% making this recipe again, took a long while to make but it was so worth the effort. He hummed happy as he ate. Ragnar’s sons would be the perfect distraction from the movement from the upstairs window.

He got pretty good at avoiding looking up there over the next month. Whenever there was more than one figure, Stiles got incredibly good at averting his eyes, but whenever his James was alone, he watched intently. Now that summer was here, James was spending a lot of time in his garden… so was Stiles. After watching him for a while he’d go out into his little nook and listen to the silence. He felt… close to the guy, being out there. The tree threw shade onto both of the gardens, and knowing that the shade he was under, spilled onto the garden opposite, where James was. 

It was a boiling hot summer evening in July when Stiles noticed something was wrong. He’d been slyly watching the couple from a distance for a while. He didn’t know why, but Blondie made him really uncomfortable. 

The heat made everything sticky and gross. Stiles never could handle summer. He enjoyed the sun and the skimpily clad people, good god did he enjoy that, but the heat. He couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning on his bed, simple sheet pulled over it and nothing on top. Even the pillows were too hot. Stiles groaned in frustration and sat up, going to the floor to ceiling window and pulling one of the panels open, standing by the open breeze and humming happily, eyes closed. The large windows made him uneasy; worried he’d fall out. But, he has happy to find that they opened from the top down, rather than from the sides. He moved to the window on the other side and opened that up too. He sighed and looked down at the dark house opposite and his mouth twisted up at the side in a sad kind of frustration.

Stiles frowned a little as he spotted a beam of light moving around in the living room, half-obscured by the tree. He leant against the window to try and get a better look and jumped as the window suddenly opened a little wider. He stepped back, heart racing and put a hand on his chest, breathing hard, before he went back to trying to see what was going on. Something was wrong. Really wrong. He frowned a little and grabbed his phone from the night stand, quickly calling 911 and getting a car to come over to the house. He’d been on google street view before to find out the number of the house opposite him. Curiosity’s sake and all, so he knew the number. It was mainly a just-in-case thing, Stiles told himself.

He watched carefully once he’d hung up, taking deep slow breaths, before he decided it was taking a touch too long. He pulled on a shirt and some shorts, rushing downstairs and out into the garden.

Fuck… Stiles closed his eyes. “This is one of those times, Stiles… where you have to go… where you have to…” he took a breath and tried to calm his racing heart before he moved to the tree, climbing up into the branches easily and over into the other garden. He dropped silently to the floor and crept up to the living room. 

The door was slightly ajar - I mean, they lived in a safe neighbourhood and it was fucking hot so why not. He slipped inside and heard a small clatter from a room nearby. He took another deep breath and moved towards the noise. He scanned the living room. If there was anything- anything at all he could use for a weapon, he should grab it. And soon. He looked around, eyebrows going up as he realised there was nothing he could use easily. He moved silently through to the hallway, another open-plan house, thank god. The kitchen was opposite and he ducked quickly in there, a frying pan was hanging up on a hook and he reached up slowly, carefully removing it. Thank god there was some rustling coming from the other room. Stiles could only think that it was a study of some kind; it sounded like paper was rustling, so… probably. The sound of the frying pan slipping from the hook fit right in and he slowly moved through the arch to the door of the study, still slightly ajar. He peered through the crack and saw.

Stiles almost laughed a little. Hunch my ass - he knew. He knew that Blondie was going to be trouble. Serious trouble. He held it back. Now was not the time for him to be his usual cocky self. He silently nudged the door open - or… tried to. He was shaking a little too much and as he moved forward the frying pan knocked the doorframe, making a small ‘bong’ noise. Blondie turned suddenly and looked up at Stiles.

The sirens had started to wail in the distance and Stiles reckoned that he had about one minute to riff, or… fight or… whatever, before they were here. When your dad’s a cop you kind of have an instinct for these kinds of things. He stepped back gingerly as the woman stood. She was tall, and like not just tall, she was… pretty damn massive, towering almost a foot over Stiles, didn’t help she was wearing damned heels as well. She took a purposeful step forward, towards him. He backed up a little more, back hitting the wall behind him as he did. The woman smirked a little and something clicked, a flash of white moonlight reflecting off a small blade she held in her hands. Okay; now Stiles was fucked. A gun, he could handle, a knife, hell no. His heart was racing, blood pumping in his ears as he gripped the frying pan in both hands, lifting it up slightly and realising that he probably looked like some sort of weird tennis player. 

She swung, slashing at him, he yelped and jumped to the side, falling backwards through the archway to his right, scrabbling on the floor, trying to get back and get to his feet. Closer now, probably less than a minute, and he could see the flashing light reflecting through windows of the houses on the street. It would be fine. She stepped into the kitchen, heels clacking on the tile as she looked down at Stiles, still smirking. “You know how I can make this look, right?” She said with a grin, finger pressed to the tip of the knife as she twirled it. 

Suddenly a shadow appeared behind her and all of a sudden, James was there, holding a gun. Stiles let out a breath of relief. “Oh thank god. I thought I was gonna fucking die.” He let out in one long breath, head falling back against the tile as his body finally let him begin to have the panic attack. She turned and put on her most innocent face, looking up at him with doe eyes. 

“Thank god you came, he… he was going through your safe!” She said, voice scared and hands beginning to tremble.  
“Yeah… he sure looks ready to rob a house - pyjamas… armed with a frying pan.” His neighbour said, deadpan as there was a rustle outside the door, he kept his eyes trained on her as he moved to it, turning the lock and opening it up. “Officers, she’s in here.” He said coolly, lowering the gun as three officers filed into the house. Stiles moved to the corner of the kitchen, knees pressed to his chest as he tried to fight for breath. It was fine, he was fine, and most importantly, bitch-face would be well and truly gone.


	4. What's in a name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wants to say thanks, Stiles struggles. As usual.

Derek, his name was… not James. It seemed to fit him a little better than James, Stiles had to admit. 

He was breathing into a paper bag in Derek’s kitchen, rolling his eyes as a deputy called Parrish tried to keep him calm, saying things like ‘you’re safe’ and ‘just breathe deeply’. He eventually managed to calm himself enough, still a little woozy from all the carbon dioxide inhalation. “Either take me to the station to take my statement or…” he took a stuttering breath and closed his eyes “Walk me back to mine so I can take it there…”

It was at that moment that the deputy seemed to understand, at least a little. 

“Agoraphobia.” Stiles managed to breathe out before he went back to breathing into the paper bag. That did it.Parrish walked up to where Derek was giving his statement by the kitchen archway, to another deputy and gently excused himself. “Mr. Hale, I was wondering whether you were planning to press charges against Mr. Stilinski.” He said softly, trying not to alarm Stiles who was too busy listening to the blood rush in his ears and the cramps in his stomach to pay any attention.“Press charges? No of course not. He wasn’t the one who was stealing.” Derek said firmly, dark eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he folded his arms over his chest, pyjama top beautifully tight.

“But he did break in.” Parrish clarified. “I just want to be sure. He’s really in no fit state to go to the station.” He said softly, eyes moving over to where Stiles was huddled on a kitchen chair, eyes closed, pale, face glistening with sweat and hands tightly gripping his arms, no doubt leaving bruises. He’d been getting dizzy, so had given up the breathing into a bag-thing. Derek’s heart ached a little for the poor guy - the guy who had supposedly called the police. And the guy who had, despite being lean though clearly not very strong, climbed over the fence and into his garden to confront his terrifyingly tall and felonious girlfriend, ex-girlfriend now. “Take him home…” He said softly, turning back to the other deputy and continuing to give his statement.Parrish nodded and went over to help Stiles up and out the door. He was shaking like a leaf and now looked flushed. He talked with him gently as he helped him into the car and drove round the block to get to his house. He stopped, got out, and helped a now-slightly-more-alive Stiles out and into the house. The short car ride had revived him slightly, but now that he was in the house he was instantly calmer, heart rate beginning to slow as he walked through to the living room with the ugly chair. He slumped himself down in it and grabbed the cushion, pulling it to his chest. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking deep, slow breaths, the air stuttering in his chest as he tried to shake off the panic attack. 

Parrish was at a bit of a loss, closing the door behind him and watching as Stiles walked immediately over to the odd-chair-out. “Shall I get you a tea or something? Glass of water?” He asked from the living room arch.   
Stiles shook his head shakily, not trusting himself with swallowing just yet. “Just… sit down and ask your questions.” He said, voice still holding a hint of a tremor as he looked over at the lit up house opposite.

Parrish did just that, sitting opposite Stiles on the sofa and asking the questions necessary for his statement. Stiles was brilliantly co-operative.

Just as he was getting ready to leave, Stiles looked much better, just tired at this point. “You’ve been really helpful, Mr. Stilinski, thank you for the time.” He said with a smile. 

“My dad’s a cop… I know how hard it is.” Stiles said with a sigh as he stood up, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Parrish nodded and patted Stiles’ shoulder lightly. “You did a good thing tonight. Not many people would have.” He smiled kindly at him. “If you need anything, I’m just a phone call away.” He reassured, handing him his card.

Stiles smiled, nodded and let him out of the house after saying a few final goodbyes. Once he was alone in the house he felt a lot better. He hummed and went upstairs after locking up the front door, flopping onto his bed and falling asleep immediately. 

———————————

Stiles sighed a little as he woke up that morning, stretching, the cool breeze from his open windows was heavenly. He pulled off the shirt and shorts, finding they were a tad smelly from the profuse sweating during the excessively long panic attack last night. He lay on his bed, happily in his boxers, for a few minutes, grabbing his phone from the nightstand where he’d left it before the whole ordeal and looked over everything that had been happening between him going to sleep and waking up.

He put his phone down on his chest for a moment and breathed slowly. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, exhaling a sigh, before he sat up, catching the phone as it flew off his chest, just in time. He rubbed a hand over his face and moved to the chest of drawers, peeling off his boxers and grabbing a clean pair of boxer briefs, shimmying into them and humming happily, completely unaware of the pair of eyes on him as he did so. They were a brand new pair. In Stiles eyes there were three things better than sex; putting on new underwear, putting on new socks, and a good, warm coffee first thing in the morning. But he was yet to be convinced.

Sex had been relatively underwhelming as far as he was concerned, he mused as he chucked the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Bit rubbish if he was being honest - lots of sticky, sweaty fumbling in cars and behind bleachers during his high school years, and later some less-than satisfying sex; college was filled with guys that were either happily gay but wanting to fuck around, overly clingy twinks who desperately wanted a ‘daddy’, or those guys who were ‘up for anything’. He wandered downstairs as he thought, finding a fresh pot of coffee awaiting him, hot and beautiful. He hummed happily as he poured it into a mug. “Oh my dear sweet, dark mistress, hold me in your cocoa-toned embrace, and nurse me into the harsh realities of the day.” He hummed, taking a sip after pouring in about a tablespoon of sugar. He groaned softly at the taste and leant against the breakfast bar, glancing his eyes up to the bedroom window that belonged to the newly-renamed Derek Hale, official stud up close, even in the dark. 

Stiles watched as the guy moved away from the window and peeled off his own pyjamas. Stiles sipped his coffee with a small, happy smirk, holding the coffee in both hands, elbows leant on the countertop as he looked up into the window. He couldn’t see below the waist, the tree obscured that part, well… if Derek was about three steps back, Stiles would be able to see everything that mattered, but… He straightened up and moved to put two slices of bread in to toast. Stiles turned back, waiting for the familiar pop of the toaster, as he went back to looking up through the window. Ohhhh Derek Hale was throwing a towel over his shoulder and heading to the bathroom. Where… Oh god. Where the window was wide open! Stiles smirked and bit his lip as Derek moved around the bed to the doorway, that perfect ass coming into view, if only for a short while. Stiles whined high in his throat, one eyebrow creasing down as the other lifted, tilting his head to the side slightly. Oh god that man would be the death of him.

He turned around once Derek was out of view and grabbed a knife and plate. He went to the fridge, grabbing the butter, before he moved around to grab the peanut butter from the cupboard, sitting them both down next to the toaster to wait. He slathered the peanut butter onto his toast and moved to the living room, putting the news on while he ate and drank his coffee, eyes slowly drifting up to the open bathroom window, which he had a -oh god- so much better view into from here. 

Even from afar, Derek was a vision. Stiles mouth watered a little as he bit into the toast, chewing absently as he watched Derek’s skin veritably glow as the light bounced off the water. He had quite a bit of hair on him. Something which made Stiles’ boxers grow just a little bit tighter. He sipped his coffee to wash it down and bit his lip as he watched Derek throw his head back, running his hands through the hair to get the suds out. Stiles finished off his breakfast while Derek showered. He made sure to look away as soon as Derek stepped out, he already felt bad enough that he was a creep, didn’t need that pointed out to Derek.

He finished off the coffee and set up a second pot to brew while he moved upstairs to shower and get dressed. Stiles enjoyed the cool shower, it was another hot day today, so it would be really stupidly pointless to have a hot shower, getting all sticky already, when there would be 24 more hours of it. 

The doorbell rang as he was stepping out the shower, slipping a little, and managing to right himself before he fell completely. “Shit.” He cursed. Pretty much running through to the bedroom, quickly spraying on some deodorant, and wriggling into a pair of jean-shorts that cut off above the knee, and a vest, shrugging on a plaid shirt over the top as the doorbell rung again. “Yeah Yeah! I’m coming!” He called, realising as he hurried down the stairs, that he’d forgotten underwear, and these shorts were quite tight around the hips. Oh fuck.

Opening the door on the third ring, Stiles plastered a smile on his face. “Hello?” He asked, taking a moment to register who was at his door. It was… mmmm… Derek Hale. 

Derek pretty much barged into the house, moving in past Stiles. “So this is where you live huh?” Derek asked, looking around the foyer as Stiles stood, staring at the empty space where Derek had just been, on his doorstep. 

Stiles slowly closed the door and turned around. “No I just squat here. You know. No house and all that.” He riffed, folding his arms over his chest as he followed a few steps behind the enormous man. He squared his shoulders a little, trying to look a bit bigger than he was, so he wouldn’t look so ridiculously tiny beside the guy. 

“You keep it very clean for a squatter.” Derek replied, completely deadpan, peering into the living room before walking in and circling back through the kitchen.

“Yeah, I mean, this isn’t my house, I should at least treat it with respect right?” He shot back with. “Stolen coffee?” He offered, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard and setting them down in front of the machine.

“Always tastes better when you haven’t paid for it.” He responded, lips quirking upwards in a smirk as he returned to the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to Stiles.

“How do you have it?” Stiles asked, busying himself opening up a Tupperware box of homemade biscotti, and popping some down on a plate. Derek put a hand over his to still him. “I-“ He took a breath and shooed him away gently, fixing his own coffee, seemingly trying to muster up the balls to say something. “I just wanted to say thank you. If you hadn’t called the police, I’d be broke by now.” Derek said softly. 

Stiles stared at the stoic rock of a man and smiled a little. “It’s… honestly it’s nothing. Not gonna let a neighbour become a victim of fraud.” He beamed gently, putting his sugar in the mug and pouring his own, before he grabbed the mug and a slice of biscotti. 

Derek leant back into the corner of the breakfast bar, cradling his coffee. He sighed softly. “It isn’t nothing. And here I am, drinking your coffee.” He grumbled to himself, putting the mug down and rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I came round.” He said softly, straightening up as if to leave.

Stiles gave him as firm an eye as he could. “Just… drink your coffee and shut up.” He said, eyes softening towards the end as he smirked a little. 

The larger male sighed and picked up the coffee, drinking it begrudgingly. It was good coffee though, nobody could deny that. 

“You don’t need to apologise or thank me or anything. It’s just what a normal person would do.” He said softly.


End file.
